


Underneath The Concrete It's All Desert Anyway

by DarchangelSkye



Category: Canadian Idol RPF, Canadian Music RPF, Music RPF, Real Person Fiction
Genre: Heart-to-Heart, M/M, Originally Posted on LiveJournal, Wordcount: 100-2.000, Written in 2008
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-08
Updated: 2010-08-08
Packaged: 2017-10-11 00:19:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/106146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarchangelSkye/pseuds/DarchangelSkye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"And that could've been you."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Underneath The Concrete It's All Desert Anyway

**Author's Note:**

> Title quote and cut-text lyric knicked from the Gorillaz book _Rise of the Ogre_.

He has to admit, the scenery is beautiful. Hills and mountains that go on for miles, the endless river, and crayon-blue skies- Drew can almost close his eyes and imagine he's back in Collingwood.

But the shuffle of Gary's sneakers in the dirt, as they sit together on the highest point above this stretch of road, is enough to bring him back to reality.

When Drew had said, "Take me to a favorite spot," he'd half-expected Gary's pick-up to stop at the first bar he played in, or maybe the park he loved to roam as a child. But he'd forgotten the kid was unpredictable. As Gary had said about this place, "It's about the only spot in the city not dyin' right now."

He hasn't said anything for a few minutes now, just faintly strumming a familiar melody on his guitar and deep in concentration. It'd be too intrusive for Drew to join in vocally or musically (the latter not being an option, as he's left his guitar at the hotel), so he retrieves his half-warm beer from the ground. He's content to just watch.

After another minute, the young man sets down his instrument. "Sorry there's nothin' exciting around here," he says, not facing Drew but the highway.

"You don't have to apologize," Drew says with a sympathetic smile. "The Kootenays are beautiful. I can see why people love coming here."

"Yeah, if you're into surface beauty," Gary shrugs and removes the picks from his rough fingertips. "Don't get me started on the people. Not for family an' friends, I woulda moved away a _long_ time ago."

The older man purses his lips in a half-frown. This kind of talk he's not used to hearing from his friend, right up there with being quiet in general (except when spotlights were dimmed or legs are tangled in sheets, anyway).

"C'mon Gare, not everybody's a lost cause. You wouldn't have gotten as far as you did if the area didn't come out to support you. You showed me the signs, all that stuff from the concert."

Gary stretches the stiffness from his back and removes his hat, the sunlight making his hair an indecisive shade of auburn. "An' how many of 'em even knew my name before I was all over their TVs an' papers? The music an' theater kids weren't exactly the height of popularity, y'know."

Yeah, it's one to ponder. Drew considers himself lucky to have grown up in a more open-minded part of the country, but how many times has he had to second-glance an admirer in the eye to see whether they're truly appreciative or just star-struck?

"It's like that everywhere," he finally says. "It's something you have to look out for in the business, nothing you can do about it."

Gary nods in agreement and shuffles himself so he's facing his friend again. His green-as-glass eyes are brighter than when the conversation started, but Drew can still see the glimmer of uncertainty.

"At least I can ignore the teenies when they get annoying. But they're not the worst part."

This is a puzzler. Drew can't think of what's worse than the vipers in the business or the obsessives tracking your every move (and he's certainly had enough of _that_ in the past year, thankyouverymuch), but maybe there's something he doesn't know.

Gary grabs the same beer to take a swig of his own (Drew had been visibly horrified the first time this happened, to which the young man said, "What's the big deal? You already caught my cooties."), likely prepping himself for what he has to say.

"It's like...back when we were still playin' around here, we'd run into people...either I'd gone to J.L. with 'em or I'd seen 'em in the next town over- it was more depressing lookin' at them than the way they looked at me. It was somethin' bigger than bein' an Idol, like a...friggin' symbol!"

"There's nothing wrong with being a hometown hero," Drew says softly and drapes an arm around the young man's shoulder. The closer they sit the more their mixed scents linger, leafy cologne and hotel coffee cake and self-doubt.

"If only that was the problem. I meant a symbol of freedom. I mean the guys, those girls...they're stuck there studying, workin' part-time in some restaurant or store and tryin' to figure out what else they'll be studying for the next four or six or eight years. All so they can graduate and buy a house in a new subdivision and slave away at some low-temp business for the rest of their lives...they're born here an' they're gonna die here, an' meanwhile I'm livin' the dream elsewhere."

Gary's not much for long monologues, even in interviews. He takes another drink and ends his statement there. He's said his peace.

The older man has taken all of this in with a careful ear. His friend is a lot smarter than some people give him credit for, but there's still one more hurdle to cross.

"And that could've been you."

There's no anger when Gary opens his eyes wide, even when he knows the nail has been hit on the head. "...Yeah," he faintly agrees.

The sympathetic smile returns to Drew and he nuzzles his cheek close to his friend's. It'd be an odd sight to anyone if they saw, a picture of class in a button-down shirt and slacks cuddling with a figure in ripped jeans and a worn Metallica tee, but there's no real reason to care. Opposites attract for more than one reason, after all.

"Damn," Gary says with his eyes half-shut. "I promised I wasn't gonna beat myself up over this, an' here I am spillin' my guts to you. Why do I let this town keep gettin' to me?"

Drew doesn't have an answer. He doesn't know if anyone does, but maybe it'll be figured out along the way. For now he rubs the young man's arm and softly kisses his top lip.

"Maybe the time's ripe for a change, Gare."

Gary returns the kiss and they lean their heads together in the warm sunshine. The faint hum of traffic below barely registers through the silence, just their breathing. It's perfect enough.


End file.
